


what a wicked game we play

by basicallyinstinctive



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basicallyinstinctive/pseuds/basicallyinstinctive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very pleased Cersei awaits Jaime after his confrontation with Ned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what a wicked game we play

**Author's Note:**

> Rough and explicit, the way Jaime and Cersei should be!

He’s still covered in blood, the honorable blood of Ned Stark and his band of ravenous wolves.

She’d almost giggled for joy when she heard what he’d done; it was exactly what she wanted, and he knew without saying. He’d say he did it to keep her son safe, but it was really to satiate her bloodthirst and reap the benefits.

He lingers in her doorway only for a split moment. He has to be on his way, they both know it, there’s no time. For once, they’re both content to fuck in Cersei’s locked chambers. For once, she’s not a queen; only a twin.

She’s flushed from pacing, wisps of her blonde hair matted in places from sweat, and she can tell Jaime likes seeing her in disarray. He’s hard already, fresh from battle, and in a second he’s pressed his hips against hers, and the room floods with the sound of agitated, faraway shouts.

“I’ve done it, sweet sister,” he whispers, biting at her white neck; for once she doesn’t hold him off, and scrambles furiously to lift up her skirts. “Oh, I see you’ve heard.”

His laughter rings in her ears and she slaps him; her hand is smeared with his blood, or Stark blood – the prospect of either or both excites her. There’s a cut on his swollen bottom lip and cuts along his neck, three or four or more.

The wolf will be dead soon, and Jaime’s living and breathing against her as he reaches for her opening and finds it with startling ease. He’s unsurprised to find her soaked, unsurprised that his battle fever can’t even match hers; if she could wield a sword, Ned would be dead already.

They fall on the bed together, a bit clumsily. _No time._ He shoves three fingers in, not even bothering to tease her, and she’s thankful for it as he drills in and out, his swordhand shaking with overuse. Shouts from outside swell in a cacophonous melody and Cersei feels brave enough to moan, to let her brother circle her clit in perpetual circles. It’s been weeks.

“No time, no time,” she yelps, although she really only wants him inside her. _He bled for me._ “Please, Jaime – ”

He doesn’t speak, only weaves his arms under her quivering hips and slams her crown against the headboard, littering specs of blood on the vermilion sheets. His pants are almost as loud as Cersei’s whimpers as her enters, without warning, as deep as the gods would allow.

She relishes the pain; too often, there wasn’t enough of it. He’s a gentler soul, she knows, but fresh off swordplay, Jaime was always merciless.

His thrusts are agonizing and frenzied this time, his touches brief, and Cersei lets him pump away. The wet sounds coming from her cunt disgust her normally but with him it’s invigorating; she succumbs every time, and this is no exception.

She tries to caress his hair but he’s not having it. There’s no option but to succumb when Jaime’s like this, and as he takes hold of her wrists, she smiles. _We are Lannisters. __It’s always best when one of them is angry._

But as always, as they near their unified climax, she forgets about everything. In a brief moment she’s rendered completely helpless as Jaime grunts and comes inside her. He doesn’t warn her, but she knows when he’s near anyway.

It’s the prospect of another child that makes her clench around his cock, and his red-stained fingers that make her kiss him unusually softly as he departs, white cloak billowing behind in a salut of Ned’s surrender.


End file.
